


Too Many Dicks on the Dance Floor

by canistakahari



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Clone Sex, Clones, Multiple Partners, Threesome - M/M/M, Transporter Malfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:21:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/pseuds/canistakahari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not <i>every</i> transporter malfunction is necessarily a bad thing. Two Jims can attest to that. One McCoy might complain a bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Many Dicks on the Dance Floor

It’s just one of those things.   
  
One of those beam-back-to-the-ship-after-a-routine-away-mission-and-find-a-copy-of-yourself-on-the-landing-pad-next-to-you kind of things. Run of the mill, really, considering the sorts of whacky situations that have become characteristic of everyday life on the  _Enterprise_.   
  
It only takes a few tests, a handful of scans, and a whole lot of Bones scowling at them as they sit side-by-side on a bio-bed to conclude that Jim and his shiny new twin are identical in every possible way.  
  
Then it takes two hours of sweet-talk to convince Bones to release them to the captain’s quarters instead of confining them both to sickbay. As far as Jim can tell, there’s no medical reason for this. Bones just refuses to believe such a blatantly unnatural transporter malfunction could do something  _this_  ludicrous without damaging them somehow. He seems to think they’re going to spontaneously combust or their hearts will lose structural integrity or something. Which is just stupid, especially because Bones has several degrees to his name and once tore Jim apart for even jokingly suggesting spontaneous human combustion was a thing that could actually happen.  
  
“You might be contagious,” Bones eventually mutters. He’s talking for the sake of talking as he stares down his tricorder like he expects  _it_  to explode if Jim isn’t going to have the decency to do so.  
  
Jim’s duplicate chooses that moment to clutch at his chest while making dramatic gurgling noises.   
  
Watching Bones’s eyes bug out in panic is totally worth the resulting tantrum. Playing that kind of prank on Bones also sets their get-him-into-bed mission back a bit, but it turns out that their case is vastly benefitted by a spur-of-the-moment decision to make out together in front of him.  
  
Bones is pretty damn easy sometimes. Who knew that all it took to get him to agree to sex with two Jims was having them suck face a bit first?  
  
And, okay, so maybe it’s a little weird.   
  
Jim has, in the past, on several separate (drunken) occasions, entertained the thought of what it would be like to kiss himself. Other people seem to like doing it, so he must be decent at it, right?  
  
Bones did always encourage him to be modest. But the second he gets the other Jim pressing up against him, lips molding to his own, both of them fighting to get their tongues inside each other’s mouths first, well, he discovers modesty just isn’t worth it in this case because he’s a  _fantastic_  kisser.   
  
There’s a nice pressure to his lips, plush and warm, maybe a little chapped, but Bones  _is_  always telling him to stop fucking chewing on your lips, Jim, so that’s fair play. Not a deal-breaker in the least. And his tongue,  _fuck_ , insistent and demanding, hot and slick,  _familiar_. He lets out a little moan and Bones echoes it and that’s when he announces in a slightly shaky voice, “All right,  _all right_ , I’m discharging you both.”   
  
“Discharging us both from sickbay... and straight into your pants?” suggests Jim’s double, pulling away from Jim and licking reddened lips, blue eyes bright.  
  
Bones scowls and crosses his arms, a defensive gesture that Jim has always read to imply Bones is dangerously close to giving in. “This is highly unprofessional. You’re the… you’re  _captains_!”  
  
“Captains of your pants,” agrees Jim.  
  
Bones just huffs a deep sigh and rolls his eyes theatrically and doesn’t deny it.   
  
It’s totally progress, considering he hustles them out of sickbay pretty quickly after that, valiantly ignoring the suggestive and highly disturbing eyebrow waggle from M’Benga and the wink Chapel sends their way. There’s a brief but furious argument in the corridor about who’s going to input the code to open the door to the captain’s quarters which is swiftly interrupted by Bones shoving them both aside to do it for them and snapping, “It’s not a pissing contest, you stupid fuckers, you have the  _same memories_ , typing in a  _code_  isn’t going to impress me!”  
  
“They’re  _my_  quarters!” protests Jim, pushing at his duplicate’s shoulder and getting pushed right back with equal force.   
  
“They’re my quarters too,” retorts his other self hotly, shooting Jim a sharp look. “ _My_  couch,  _my_  desk,  _my_  bed...”  
  
“My patience,” snaps Bones. “Running out.” He stalks inside ahead of them and Jim watches the bounce of his backside as he goes.  
  
“I get his ass,” he says immediately. “Dibs on his ass!”  
  
“Well I wanted his mouth anyway,” says, uh, the other Jim?   
  
And seriously, that’s not going to be at  _all_  confusing. Unfortunately there is no clear precedent for describing the act of fucking your boyfriend in the company of yourself.  
  
Finding a clear way for Jim to mentally address his double is bad enough, really, because… even though Bones claimed there’s no sure way to pinpoint which of them is the original and which is the copy, Jim is positive that he’s the  _real_  Jim. His doppelganger is... alike in every way, obviously. He’s still a Kirk. Just not  _Jim_  Kirk. Because  _Jim_  is already Jim.  
  
Accept no substitutes.  
  
“Good,” says Jim stubbornly.   
  
“Fine,” says Kirk.   
  
They stare each other down for a moment. Jim admires his own eyes.  
  
“I’m assuming  _I_  don’t get any say in this dumb-fuckery,” cuts in Bones. His tone is delightfully acerbic.   
  
“Not if you have my cock in your mouth,” says Kirk cheerfully.  
  
Bones performs an adorable head-to-toes flush and retaliates by locking himself in the bathroom with a bottle of bourbon.  
  
Jim factors in another ten minutes of coaxing and bribery before there is even a remote chance of sexual intercourse on the horizon.  
  
By the time they convince Bones to come out and get undressed and spread himself out on the bed, he’s only slightly drunk, and Bones happens to be a better-humoured lay when he’s tipsy anyway. Or rather, his enthusiasm outweighs his grumbling with the addition of a bit of social lubricant, though the grumbling doesn’t ever  _really_  stop until Bones has got someone’s dick in his ass (Jim’s dick, thank you very much), at which point Bones undergoes a contained nervous breakdown in which all the combined stresses of the day get worked out via a solid fucking.  
  
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” chants Kirk. He’s crouched at the end of the bed stroking his cock as he watches Jim bury two slick fingers into the tight heat of Bones’s ass.  
  
“No wonder you love it when I fuck you,” Jim murmurs into Bones’s ear. “I’ve got a nice dick.”  
  
“As if you don’t routinely admire your own cock in front of the mirror, Jim,” Bones grits out through clenched teeth. Jim crooks his fingers just  _so_  and Bones arches off the bed, groaning helplessly, his fingers tangled white-knuckled in the sheets.   
  
“I’ve never seen it from this angle before,” says Jim.  
  
“C’mon,” repeats Kirk. “Hurry up. I want his mouth.”  
  
“And I want a damn pony,” snaps McCoy, half-turning onto his belly to glare at Kirk. “If you want the world’s worst blowjob, then by all means, try to fuck my mouth while Jim is playing the drums on my prostate.”  
  
“Right, because it’ll be easier to concentrate when he replaces his fingers with that impressive erection,” says Kirk. “I don’t even need you to  _do_  anything, Bones, I just need you to wrap your lips around my dick and let me at it.”  
  
“Oh my god,” croaks out Bones, his hips twitching weakly as Jim adds a third finger, stretching him open with relentless precision. “And I thought just  _one_  of you was demanding. This ain’t fair at all. I can’t even tell you two apart.”  
  
“I’m the one that’s going to fuck your ass,” says Jim sweetly.  
  
“And I’m the one that’s going to fuck your pretty mouth,” finishes Kirk.  
  
“Thanks for the clarification,” says Bones dryly. He tries to muster up enough energy for a scowl and then moans as Jim works steadily at his prostate, his head dropping down to bow between his shoulders, back gleaming with sweat. His thighs part, ass nudging up for more, and that’s when Jim withdraws his fingers and gives him a hard smack on one cheek, directing him towards Kirk.   
  
Bones grunts in surprise, lurching forward on the rumpled sheets. “Look at your life, Leonard,” he mumbles to himself. “Look at your choices.”  
  
“Your awesome, awesome choices,” soothes Kirk. He reaches forward to cup Bones’s face, drawing him up for a kiss that seems to melt right through Bones’s remaining defenses judging by the way his stiff shoulders relax and he moans softly.   
  
Jim can see Bones’s cock bobbing hard and flushed between his legs, and when he lowers his head to take Kirk’s cock into his mouth, he raises his ass and Jim’s cock twitches at the sight of his pink hole.   
  
Fucking  _begging_  for it.   
  
Moving up behind Bones, Jim locks eyes with Kirk and runs a heavy hand down Bones’s spine before settling his palm right over the curve of his ass. As Bones braces himself over Kirk’s lap, Jim dips the tips of his fingers into his stretched hole, running the pad of his thumb around the loosened ring of muscle.   
  
Bones groans, the sound vibrating right through to Kirk, who bites off a sharp curse, his blue eyes fluttering half-closed. He’s got a hand tangled in Bones’s thick hair, holding him in place as his hips rock forward and back in tight strokes. It’s a bit of a pity that Jim isn’t going to get to see Bones’s face when he comes, but it’s enough to have him happily shared between them like this. He kneels up, gently guiding Bones’s thighs apart to admit him.   
  
Jim waits for Kirk to pull his hips back before he guides his cock into Bones, Kirk filling his willing mouth just as Jim fills the slick heat of ass.   
  
Bones grunts, clenching hard around Jim in a tight squeeze that sets sparks off low in Jim’s belly; he scrabbles at the sheets as he adjusts to the counter-thrust of their bodies, spitted mercilessly between them. It takes a confused minute of working out the rhythm but soon Bones goes obligingly limp, a passive object between them, rocking back onto Jim’s cock as Kirk thrusts into his mouth.   
  
“Fuck, just look at him,” rasps Kirk, his hips working restlessly now, hand tight in Bones’s hair. “Fucking  _look_  at him. Taking us both.”  
  
“Bones,” says Jim. “Bones Bones  _Bones_. You should see what you look like. Just letting us use you. So perfect like this.”  
  
Bones makes a muffled sound, a desperate, high-pitched whimper, and his back bows as he arches his hips in a bid for friction.   
  
“I think he wants you to touch him,” says Kirk. His voice is ragged, chest stained a ruddy pink, and Jim recognizes the signs of impending orgasm on his own face.   
  
“I think you’re right,” says Jim, grinding into Bones in the relentless pace they’ve set. “Is that what you want, Bones? Want me to jerk you off?”  
  
Bones trembles, answers him with an abrupt backwards nudge of his hips.   
  
It’s like that, with Jim’s fist wrapped around his cock, trapped between their bodies, that Bones comes with a helpless little mewl.   
  
Jim can feel his own orgasm building, his balls tightening, arousal coiling in his gut, and he teases himself with shallow strokes to draw it out. Kirk comes first, stomach muscles clenching as his mouth drops open and his eyelids slide shut in complete bliss. It’s a shock to the system to see himself with such an expression of open vulnerability on his face, and it sends Jim spiraling down into his own release.   
  
Jim and Kirk catch their breath within ten seconds of one another.  
  
Between them, they turn a spectacularly uncooperative Bones over onto his back; the guy is understandably 180 lbs of dead weight following his 180 degree reaming. Once Bones is comfortably laid out in all his sticky come-streaked glory, Kirk slips out of bed to get a warm wet cloth.   
  
“Okay, Bones?” murmurs Jim, petting Bones’s damp hair. If Bones wasn’t fucked three-quarters of the way to complete incoherency right now, sprawled out on the mattress as if he’s lost all motor control and may never regain it again, Jim might gloat a little bit. Because he was right. This was  _awesome_.  
  
But it’s no fun if Bones isn’t conscious enough to argue, and judging by Bones’s swollen lips and spit-slick chin and the way he’s still breathing like he’s run a marathon, he’s in no condition to put up a satisfying fight.   
  
“Uhn,” answers Bones, vaguely affirmative. He blinks sluggishly. Then he snuffles and turns his face into the blankets, apparently unable to deal with the sight of Jim or Kirk (or worse, both) right now. “Go ‘way.”  
  
“It’s okay,” says Jim. “I’d be overwhelmed by the immensity of being fucked by two Jim Kirks too.”  
  
“Man,” says Kirk, returning with the washcloth. “He is  _wrecked_. Outstanding.” He holds out his fist expectantly and Jim bumps their knuckles together.   
  
“You did not just fist-bump each other over my head,” mumbles Bones, the furrow already returning to his forehead. “Please tell me you didn’t.”  
  
“We didn’t,” says Kirk obediently. “Bones?”  
  
“I’m fine,” sighs Bones. “I’m not going to be able to sit down tomorrow, and my jaw is sore as all hell, but I’m good.”  
  
Jim pats Bones gently on the bum. “You’ve got twenty minutes at best before we’re ready for round two.”  
  
“Oh my god,” moans Bones, covering his face with his hands. “If Scotty doesn’t fix you soon I’m not going to live out the week.”  
  
“I’m thinking he’s probably ready to take us both,” says Kirk in a low voice.   
  
Jim doesn’t miss the shudder that runs through Bones.   
  
“Fuck,” mutters Bones. “Gonna be the death of me.”  
  
Jim winks at Kirk. “That wasn’t a ‘no’.”  
  
“Since when,” drawls Bones, “could I ever say ‘no’ to Jim Kirk?”  
  
“Since when would you want to?” asks Kirk.  
  
“I like you,” Jim says to Kirk.  
  
“You would,” says Bones sourly. “All right. Let’s do this, you motherfuckers. Before I change my mind.”  
  
Jim pushes up Bones’s right knee and fingers him lazily, testing the resistance. “Always wanted to see if you could take two cocks.”  
  
“Bet you imagined it with two of yourself, as well,” says Bones, squirming.  
  
“Well what do you know,” says Kirk, taking hold of Bones’s other leg. “Dreams do come true.”


End file.
